


By Invitation Only

by eli



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eli/pseuds/eli
Summary: Opening Casterbook takes more than opening the doors.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KayleeFrye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeFrye/gifts).



> Post-Foxglove Summer, with no plot spoilers for The Hanging Tree.

We were standing in the grand hall watching the cleaners steer their equipment around for the finishing touches at the edges, doing a right professional job of not scraping against the wood paneling on the walls, when I finally realized that Nightingale chose to show me Casterbrook's night gate way back when.

'Who normally undoes the front for them?' I asked. Because I do know how to not ask the first question that comes into my mind. 

'One of the farmers on the estate,' Nightingale said after a moment. 'Her family has been here for generations.'

I suspected everyone working a piece of land around the school from the Folly had been there for longer than even he remembered, or he wouldn't have given them the lease.

**

It took the better part of a month, and some advice from Beverly, I have to admit, to get Nightingale to agree that my idea of opening Casterbrook for a community day 'could be beneficial.' At first I honestly couldn't tell whether he stonewalled me out of avoidance or anger, and I'd never particularly cared before whether a boss liked me, but that was an uncomfortable too many days. Life was a bit better when he started coming up with reasons why not – Hugh Oswald wouldn't return even if we invited him, the Rivers would find some way to take advantage, Zach couldn't be trusted. 'Unlikely,' I said, because I was sure that Hugh and his grapevine would be all a-twitter and I wasn't going to mention that it'd be Melissa who might put the kibosh on. 'Probably,' I admitted, and I wasn't just thinking of Tyburn when I said it. And 'Oh definitely, never,' I agreed, but still, if we were going to do this, we should do it right. It was time to open up some mystery boxes, even if it was just a few of them.

One night a week after conceding the potential benefits, Nightingale asked me to come down the street for a pint. He looked calm enough, but it hit me that he wasn't entirely comfortable when he led with, 'Molly won't be able to help us. She won't be happy.'

Molly wasn't ecstatic, but after the third night of no random innards at the dinner table, curiosity drove me down to the kitchen. Toby was under the table with a blissful smile on his doggie mug. I clearly wasn't the only beneficiary of Molly's unexpected largess that week. 

There was no point in beating around the bush. 'You've tried to get him invite his former...compatriots,' probably not the best word but it did the job, 'to the school before, haven't you?'

No direct response, but that might have been a smug lift at the corners of her mouth. 

'Do you know why he hasn't?'

She didn't even need to turn around to glare at me, I could feel the opinion of my stupidity from across the room. Toby took the trouble to roll onto his side, his eyes open in contemptuous slits that would be more at home on a cat.

'Right. Well," I said, backing out, 'I'll be in the coach house working out the wording for an invitation. A formal one. That should go out formally.' 

Molly didn't respond, but the next morning I almost tripped over a neat stack of heavy card stock blank invitation-type paper and envelopes outside my barred bedroom door.

**

We didn't actually expect anyone to try to crash this party. The odds of it going sideways for anyone who tried were higher than I cared to calculate, and Nightingale thought we'd done a thorough job of demonstrating our ability to maintain the peace at the celebration-slash-summit of the Rivers last spring. I was pretty sure the general fog-like glamour Mama and Father Thames had put out, intentional or not, played a role in that one, but I also knew I wouldn't want to try poking this potential beehive of power. 

We did however want to keep the atmosphere at least a few levels higher than riverside fair, so we made it clear that no invite equals no entry. To my surprise, it was Nightingale who had the idea to have Abigail at the front door checking in everyone arriving.

'It will give her a purpose for much of the proceedings,' he said as I struggled to shut my mouth. 'And as she's almost as observant as you, I will be interested to hear her thoughts on the attendees. In the report you will have her submit the following day.'

'Huh,' I said, duly impressed. I had planned to stick her with my mother, possibly with a werelight anchored over her head to keep track of her over the crowd. 'Tricksy."

Nightingale still insists that he only saw the Lord of the Rings movies once, out of a need for research. But he nodded with no hesitation in response to my opinion of his scheming, so I think we all know the truth about that one.

**

Abigail, it turned out, was not only the proud owner of a halo of hair would garner vocal admiration from nearly everyone who came to the door, but also a deep red suit and Barney purple shoes. 

'Nice shoes,' was all I said when she showed up with my mum, and my dad and his gaggle of bandmates. 

She smirked and feinted a kick at my shins that I didn't bother to dodge.

Beverley and Fleet were the first to arrive. 'Maybe next time,' Fleet said calmly but pointedly when I asked after the kids. So we weren't the only ones feeling things out this day. Bev gave me a buss on the cheek and quickly steered her sister for the drinks table.

The 'refreshments will be served' part of the invite clearly made it to other parts of the demi-monde, as Zach and a small bunch of Quiet People showed up not long after. I didn't recognize any of them, but at least half of them wore shades I could see their eyes through. Things had been progressing in the daylight excursion arena, then, that was nice. I did warn Zach, though, that they were to mingle, not to permanently plant themselves in the corner with the food. He patted me on the back, and as I checked my pockets I mentally underlined 'unobtrusive tracker' on my list of magical tools that I needed to look up. I couldn't be the first to think of it, and Nightingale's raised eyebrow when I'd asked the last time Zach's name came up in conversation confirmed that.

Over half an hour in the hall was beginning to fill, but we were still the only people in the place without a touch of fae in us. I could hear Nightingale's voice become more clipped at each greeting, and hoped that didn't translate into some aura the growing crowd around us could sense. 

Standing at the base of the stairs leading higher and deeper into the school as we were, we formed a welcome point and a barrier. We also were facing straight ahead to the door, instead of looking at either of the walls along the sides of the hall with all those engraved names. My father and the Irregulars were fully set up now, and the food and drink were only going to distract people for so long, but the music wasn't scheduled to start until after Nightingale had done the big official greeting. I was beginning to wonder whether I'd need to kick things off. 

Then I caught a glimpse of Abigail's excitedly waving red arm at the door. 'I'm going to...' I said, waiting just long enough to get Nightingale's curt nod before making my way across the hall quickly yet without rushing. Alarming anyone was the last thing that should happen today, thank you.

My pace slowed as I got closer and could finally see Abigail's face past all the taller bodies. She was grinning.

'That's the one you wanted to come, right?' she asked when I stopped next to her, pointing down the stairs to the short curvy woman directing three well-built men, who were helping a much older man out of a Mondeo with a custom yellow paint job.

At her voice, Hugh looked up and his face lit with a smile when he saw me. 'Peter!' he called. 

Melissa spun around to pin me with a look the expressed every bit of wary hope she felt about this excursion. I gave her a reassure-the-public smile that didn't budge her one bit, and stepped forward to offer, 'Want another set of hands?'

'Nonsense,' Hugh said. 'Now that I'm out, I'm just fine.' 

'Is everything all right?' I heard Nightingale ask Abigail behind me, and I was suddenly glad that this is how it was happening. Here, at the front door that was open to the world, but with the world behind us, inside.

'Sir, I'd like you to meet Melissa Oswald,' I said. 'And you know Hugh.'

The silence that descended on our little tableau wasn't complete, not with the rumble of voices and movement inside. The sound of Nightingale's shoe scraping the stone as he stepped forward was louder than it should have been, though, and it broke everyone back into motion.

'Yes,' Nightingale said. 'It has been a long time, but it is...it is good to see you, Hugh.'

Hugh's face was stiff, but not with anger. I'd seen that writ clear enough on his face, in his eyes, that stifling summer day where he'd spoken of Ettersburg. No, this was what I'd seen when I was opening the trunk with the staffs that he passed on to me, and that had instigated this entire 'open Casterbrook to the people who deserve and need to see it' idea. 

'It has been,' Hugh said, his voice as tight as his face. 'Too long.'

Nightingale descended the steps and put out his hand. After a long moment, Hugh pulled his own free of Melissa's and put it in Nightingale's. I couldn't say what passed between them, there were too many years and events that I could never hope to understand. But Nightingale's shoulders relaxed for the first time since we'd walked through the doors that morning, and Hugh's smile returned, wryer and more personal than before.

**

Nursing the one drink I'd allowed myself, I leaned back in my seat and savored the warmth of Beverley pressed close on my left. The clear high notes of my father's trumpet wove above and around the slow beat and pulse maintained by the rest of the band, and a greater number of people than I had expected were swaying along. I only had a few minutes before I had to be on the move through the gathering again, but I was taking them and enjoying them. 

'Nightingale could do the next go-round,' Beverley suggested in my ear. 

I shook my head. 'I'll take this one.'

'You've taken almost all of them,' she pointed out and slid an arm around my waist, possessive, setting off ideas that I only felt comfortable having so long as my mum was focused on the stage.

Tilting my head, I rested my cheek on her dreds and breathed in the scent of her. 'I'll come to yours tonight, okay?'

She sighed. 

**

As I swung toward the east wall, I spotted them, the small group of men gathered around Nightingale. They weren't looking at the walls anymore, that had come hours ago, along with suitably manly tears that no one in attendance mentioned. I had met them all now, every one who had wanted and been able to return to this place that had been a shuttered memorial for so long.

I'd be talking to Hugh soon about working with him and all of them, connecting that vine into our networks for as long as it could contribute and grow. For now though I nodded at Nightingale that all was well, got a nod in return, and kept walking.


End file.
